Sir Marlow's Safari
Yurians Tally ho, dear readers! It is I, Sir Marlow, here to regale you once more of my adventures and discoveries in the far off lands, untamed by man. The simple beastfolk of the south are mysterious, proud people, steeped in savage yet beautiful tradition. As a gentleman and a scholar, it is my duty and honour to travel to their exotic homeland to educate you, dear readers, of life in their native environment. I hope that, through reading these reports, your imaginations can help you to experience the wonders that I have seen. I start my report with the peaceful race known as the Yurians, colloquially known as Crabfolk. These magnificent beasts stand as tall as a man when fully grown, though for all intents they appear not as men, but giant crabs. Their round, ungainly bodies, protected by a thick shell, are suspended by four insect-like legs, and they possess not two, but four arms! Two of these arms are much like a crab’s; imagine, if you can, pinching claws that could squash a man’s head like an overripe pumpkin! Do not be alarmed, dear readers, for they are as docile as sheep on the pasture, and would not harm a fly if it meant them no danger. Their second pair of arms possess not claws, but rather a myriad of dextrous fingers, always moving about, making them quite hard to count. With these hands they make, if one can believe it, the finest of crafted goods, as fine as anything I have seen in Asanon or Yeto and, dare I say it, some even finer. Their faces, and particularly horrible mouths, are much like that of common crabs, making them somewhat difficult to look at closely without turning one’s stomach. Though somewhat intelligent, not unlike the common kobold, they cannot speak normally like you or I. With the assistance of a magical aide, and my responsibility towards you, dear readers, I was able to talk with them for a while. The Crabfolk prefer to stay in deep, rocky grottos, away from the sun, where they live near pools of water. Despite already being underground, they build small tents to live in out of cloth they fashion themselves from some sort of water plant. They are quiet people, who live off of the plants, fish and, yes dear readers, insects, that they cultivate in their grotto lakes. Imagine, a giant crab that farms other crabs to eat! I have seen many things in my time, but that still gives me pause to laugh. They live very communally, though they appear to raise their own young, unlike some other beastkind I shall speak of later. I shall leave you with one more tale, to whet your doubtless thirst for mystery. While I spoke with the Crabfolk, they showed me many of their treasures that they had fashioned and passed down through their generations. One piece in particular caught my eye: a most beautiful necklace, crafted of perfect, opalline seashells, inlaid with what could only be precious gems! When I inquired, they told me it was once part of a set, but the other pieces had been lost to invaders long ago. I questioned as to what reason a giant crab would have to make such things (if you could see this artifact, you would know that it could not possibly have been made for wearing themselves); they said that the set was for a great hero, long ago, but the pieces were stolen before he could arrive for it, and they mourn to this day their loss. Though I would have liked nothing more than to take that necklace back with me to civilization, they seemed so saddened of telling me of its missing counterparts that I could not bear to make them more upset (nor, dear readers, risk their anger and giant claws!). With that, I take my leave, dear readers. Until my next tale of adventure and mystery, good day! Gnolls Good day, gentle readers! I, Sir Marlow, have returned once more to tell you tales of adventure and mystery from the savage southern peninsula! My travels took me to the arid plains, far south, past the jungles of the Ravenfolk. Huge, scaly beasts, the likes of which have never roamed the civilized lands, flatten the very ground where they step. I witnessed one of these great reptilian monsters, with jaws that could swallow a horse in a single bite, fell its adversary, a creature so tall that its long neck could stretch above the tallest buildings in Kalleander, with nothing but the claws on its feet and its dagger-like teeth. Such a display of nature’s ferocity was a sight to behold! Living amongst these giant beasts are a people well-known for their own savage natures: the gnolls, or the Dogfolk. I met a tribe of these brown-furred, terrifying beastmen while exploring the savannah, and convinced them to permit me to visit their village, as it were. What a rare treat for us both, dear readers, for now I can describe to you the manner of these primitive peoples! The Dogfolk, as you may know, stand a bit taller than the average man, and are all built with a frightening strength and savagery. They are, in looks, much closer to dogs than people: their heads are that of a jackal or coyote with uncanny intelligence in their black eyes, and their hands are tipped with blunt claws. Shaggy fur covers their bodies and tails, ranging from brown to grey, some even patterned with spots, much like the mutt-dogs that are sometimes kept in Asanon. This leads itself to a shocking lack of propriety in both males and females alike; some wear nothing but the barest of loincloths to cover themselves, while the others wear nothing at all! Despite this, they seem to enjoy self-decoration, wearing all manners of tribal jewelry and, through some process I could not determine, make-up and tattoos. The males in particular seem to find importance in piercing, and many of them have pieces of bone, wood and, in some cases, metal, lodged in their ears and muzzles. The higher their rank in the pack, the more jewelry they appear to wear, and the nicer it seems to be. The chieftain and his wives (I use the term loosely; the gnolls do not pair for life, but do have favoured partners) wore all manner of golden, gemmed and adorned neckbands, rings and bracelets. The chief himself also possessed a huge headdress adorned with feathers of all the colours of the rainbow, while the pack’s most storied hunter (and my, what stories he had!), wore a beautiful armband made of polished shell, pure white, and decorated with beads of the most vibrant orange I have ever seen.. The living style of the Dogfolk is that of a roaming pack: they sleep in tents made of hides and furs, and keep nothing that they can not pack and carry with them. They rove the savannahs of the peninsula, following herds of the more peaceful scaled monstrosities, and hunt them for food and building materials, using their scales, hides, meat and even their bones! The pups are raised by their birth mother when quite young, but once weaned are raised by a communal den-mother, and in a year or two they are learning to survive on their own, becoming full-blooded hunters by the time our children are still learning to dress themselves. Not that that is a skill required by the dogfolk! With that, I find I must be off again. Until my next tale of adventure and mystery, good day! Tengu Good day once again, dear readers! I, Sir Marlow, have a new tale for your entertainment and pleasure. I’m sure even the youngest among you have heard of the Ravenfolk, or the Tengu. These strange conniving people, much like the birds they resemble, have a tendency to migrate north to civilization much more so than their other beastial brethren; perhaps you have even seen one yourselves! They have the faces, feet, tails and even feathers of crows; all that separates them from birds is their lack of wings and their great size. Instead of wings, they have feathered arms and hands that look almost identical to their bird-like feet, though a closer inspection reveals that they were granted the good grace of thumbs like a man’s. Though they have the capability of speaking civilly, and many indeed know the language of man, their own language is a confusing mess of squawks and chirps, certainly impossible to copy without a beak. The din a group of them can make cawing to each other will give even the most seasoned bird-watcher a headache! My adventures have led me to the great city of the Ravenfolk, and my, what a strange place it is. Of all the things I’ve seen in the wild south, this is the only thing that approaches civilization, but before you get the wrong idea, good readers, do not think that it is a city like you live in now. The Ravenfolk, rather than have the good sense of cutting down trees to make houses, have made their homes in the trees while they are still alive! Great numbers of massive trees, the smallest of which are no less than 5 times the size of the biggest tree you have ever seen, grow in twisted knots, their branches and trunks warped through magic that I cannot fathom to make halls and rooms and whole buildings inside the tree itself. The Ravenfolk live in these trees like disorganized birds would, making nests of their belongings in random places and moving about when they reach certain ages, or are having children, or are bored. I feel I must mention, to satisfy your undoubtable curiosity, that yes, the Tengu lay gigantic eggs, though they would not allow me to see them with my own eyes. Some among you might think that the Ravenfolk are the most sophisticated of the beastfolk, what with their city and propensity for language, but I must say, dear readers, that if you had seen what I have, you would think twice. The Crab and Catfolk may live simple existences, and the Dogfolk may seem absolutely savage, but at least the gnolls have respect for order. The Ravenfolk live in a mess of yelling and posturing, with no president, no council, not even an elder to guide them. There are no police, or anything of the sort. From what I could gather, they each do whatever they please, with no laws to prevent villainy. Crimes that would have a man locked up for life aren’t even blinked at. Why, I myself was almost robbed twice while I was there, but a good thump on the head made the would-be thieves think twice about that. They truly live like animals, where only the strong or beautiful ones are spared savagery (though if you think of an everyday crow, you’ll know I use the word beautiful loosely). The more wealth one has, the more respect they garner; Ravenfolk with much gold, jewels, fine clothes and other finery were feared and praised by their neighbours, who fawn over them for favour in return. And such splendor indeed! How one could walk around wearing such audacious ornaments in a den of thieves is beyond me, but it seemed that the richer one was, the less likely they were to be robbed. In particular, one Ravenfolk seemed to command fear from everyone: a great tall beast with jet black feathers, wearing bright red silks and a gold diadem, adorned with shells, stones and five of the most beautiful gems I had ever seen. I wished to have a closer look, but my guide held back, saying that it was dangerous to approach, lest his followers, or perish forbid, he himself, find you insolent. I scoffed at the notion, but decided not to risk disturbing the whole flock with an old-fashioned row. This brings me to the end of this particular tale, so until my next adventure, my dear readers, good day! Category:Tiny Books